


Preen

by mystiri1



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Community: ij porn_battle, Grooming, M/M, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-24
Updated: 2010-09-24
Packaged: 2017-10-12 04:26:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/120743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystiri1/pseuds/mystiri1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zack had left Cloud to take care of Sephiroth, and that was just what he was going to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Preen

The cabin was cold.

Cloud finished poking at the fire, and turned to look at the figure on the bed. Sephiroth sprawled across it uncaringly, as miserably unresponsive as he'd been ever since Cloud and Zack had dragged him away from Nibelheim. Cloud wasn't sure if it was the lingering effects of being possessed by Jenova, or if Sephiroth just didn't want to face them. He wasn't sure which of the two he should be hoping for, either.

He glanced at the door, but knew Zack wouldn't be back for awhile yet. He'd gone hunting, because SOLDIERs needed protein and lots of it to run their high metabolisms. The freeze-dried foods the cabin was stocked with wouldn't cut it for long. Besides, it was silly to be this uneasy about being alone with his own lover.

His lips firmed in determination. Zack had gone hunting, despite the fact the wound in his side hadn't healed yet, and left Cloud to take care of Sephiroth, and that was just what he was going to do.

Standing, he crossed to the bed. He removed Sephiroth's boots first, and checked to see if the socks he wore underneath were wet. They weren't, but Cloud thought maybe he'd tell Zack that when they went to Icicle for a supply run, more socks were definitely on the agenda. They hadn't exactly had time to pack spares. Then he unclipped the heavy shoulder guards. He thought he should move onto the wide belt next – it was quite inflexible as it doubled as stomach armour, and couldn't possibly be comfortable – but Sephiroth was lying on his stomach, and Cloud didn't think he could move him on his own.

His eyes settled on the black wing that lay limply along the length of the other man's body, instead. It was looking sadly bedraggled, broken feathers sticking out in all directions. In one way, it was a sign of everything that had led to this mess, of how Sephiroth had changed and everything had gone wrong. But looking at it, Cloud thought it showed much more clearly just how far this Sephiroth was from the cool and confident General he knew. That Sephiroth had never had his mind taken over by some creepy alien entity, had never burned down a village and attacked his own best friend. That Sephiroth would rather have his nails pulled out one by one than be seen at such a disadvantage.

He reached out to touch it experimentally, but Sephiroth didn't move.

“Well,” he said aloud, his breath fogging the air momentarily, “it can't be that different from grooming chocobos.” Cloud thought he saw a shoulder twitch, but when nothing else happened, he shrugged it off as his imagination.

He settled down a little awkwardly beside Sephiroth, and reached out a hand, combing at the feathers with stiff fingers the same way he would with a chocobo after removing the saddle. He'd always liked it when his unit pulled stable duty. Chocobos felt soft and warm to the touch; to his surprise, Sephiroth's wing felt much the same. It was almost too prosaic for such a fantastical thing.

Slowly, carefully, Cloud worked his way across the wing, tugging free the damaged feathers and stroking the others back into place.

He'd already been at it for a good fifteen minutes when he first noticed a response. The wing drew up a little, settling more naturally against Sephiroth's back rather than looking like something broken that dragged behind him. Encouraged, Cloud pressed closer and continued his ministrations.

He didn't notice the other small movements at first.

Unconsciously, he'd been moving closer to the position he usually occupied when they were in bed together, half-lying against Sephiroth's side with one hand continuing to stroke at the wing. It wasn't until his own hips were pressed against the older man that he realised Sephiroth's hips were moving: short, subtle movements against the blankets, movements that made him think of sex.

His hand paused. If Sephiroth was moving like that, it would be rubbing him up against the mattress. It was true that the man's pants, and possibly the lower parts of his coat, were in the way, but...

Cloud stroked his fingers over soft feathers, and watched Sephiroth's hips rock forward. His face felt hot, but he did it again and caught his breath as the movement also meant Sephiroth rubbed against the front of his own pants, which were getting tighter.

Settling more firmly against Sephiroth's side, he continued, feeling slightly guilty as the rocking movements picked up their pace in response to his touch. It wasn't as though Sephiroth was even really conscious of what he was doing, and Cloud shouldn't be enjoying this so much. He was just supposed to be taking care of him, not getting off.

He wasn't sure when he began thrusting his own pelvis against a muscled thigh, but he felt it when Sephiroth's hips jerked forward sharply, and a shudder rolled through the long body. A small sound of disappointment escaped him when he realised what it meant.

Then long hair shifted, and he looked up to see Sephiroth had turned his head. The silver-haired General was watching him, his eyes bright and aware for the first time in weeks.

“Cloud,” he said, the usually smooth voice raspy from disuse. There were a lot of messages hidden in those brilliant green eyes, guilt and unease among them, but what made Cloud catch his breath was the one he was most familiar with.

Desire.

He should be angry at Sephiroth for burning down his village and attacking them, disappointed or hurt or _something_ , but all Cloud felt was relief that it was the Sephiroth he knew looking back at him. Leaning forward, Cloud pressed a kiss against dry, cracked lips, and stroked his hand over feathers once again.


End file.
